


The Rollout

by wherenearheisenberg



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, F/M, Feels, Mild Language, Time Machines, Tony has a sister!, oldies music
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-05
Updated: 2014-05-15
Packaged: 2018-01-18 06:38:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1418612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wherenearheisenberg/pseuds/wherenearheisenberg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I've always wanted to become a genius. I want to have this "eureka moment", or even a moment when it's not eureka-ish but could pass as incredibly remarkable. Something I'd be proud of, like how my brother was proud of his little machines.</p><p>But now, at 18, as I look upon the "little project" I've been working on for quite some time, I feel like I'll have my own eureka moment soon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Brave New World

I've always wanted to become a genius. I want to have this "eureka moment", or even a moment when it's not eureka-ish but could pass as incredibly remarkable. Something I'd be proud of, like how my brother was proud of his little machines. I bet soon enough, Tony will be able to build that tower of his and name it after us, the Starks.

I'm Rowan Stark. I was born when Tony was 5 years old. By that time, he was already the prodigy of my father. He entered MIT at 15 and I was left at home. It's not that I was deprived of anything. I had everything a wealthy teenage girl would have. My parents loved me and never held me back for anything, unless it was my overspending in hardwares and electrical supplies stores, and I was the prodigy of Tony. To think it was a good thing was actually not. What it meant was that I was constantly behind his shadow, which was both good and irritating because 1) I don't get unwanted attention but 2) people always look past me and always onto my brother.

But now, at 18, as I look upon the "little project" I've been working on for quite some time, I feel like I'll have my own eureka moment soon.

"Going to some costume party?" I hear my brother ask as I walk through our kitchen. I was getting a glass of liquid electrolyte for my machine when I decided to save some time and put on my battle clothes, aka mom's 1940s dress.

Why would I need a 1940s dress? Yes, because my "machine" is a time machine. I figured I can't walk around vintage NYC dressed as a modern girl, so it was a harmless precaution.

"Uhmm yeah, you know, with the machine and all. I think I might go to 1942." It would not hurt since the Second World War is only brewing and I'll have time to stroll and look around the place. Under my machine's timeframe, of course. Tony looked up from the robotic dog he made and walked towards me. I was afraid he might scold me for my risky nonchalance or something. Instead, in a low voice he said, "Rows, you know I will never stop you from doing your thing and I'll always support you but be careful with this one. I'v never heard of someone venturing time travel at 18."

"Then this will be the first." I say confidently, showing him a wide grin. Despite this, I'm anxious and giddy all over my invention. I could only hope this would work. I had the right measurements to every wire, every screw, every electric current this time. You see, it's like baking, my dad would say. He always reminded me of precision, and that you should not always rely on gut feeling, as it meddles with what you think is right and what is actually right. When I defiantly told him that I won't mix up the two because I'm always right, he laughed and told me, "Even the best people make mistakes, sweetheart. But you should always strive to be a good person."

That was the last thing he told me before he and mom died.

Tony raised his eyebrows. "I'm serious, Rowan." Then his face subtly contorts and I almost want to stop him because I know it will be about our parents again. "I cannot lose you." I shrug him off reluctantly. I chose not to talk about what happened to us. I thought I could suck it up like how Tony did. It's not like we lost everything we had to live. Tony and I inherited our company. We have people to help us, employees at our disposal. We were rich, but we were alone. This ticked off kidnappers and terrorists. Those kidnap-for-ransom groups that have a hit list. I'm sure as hell our names would be there, so Tony immediately got his shit together right after our parents' death and strengthened the security of our house and our company that he was now running.

I'm used to it now. I can live again. It doesn't hurt as much when they talk about how happy our family was back then. The pain turned into a dull ache, and people learned soon not to meddle on that ache as to make it worse.

I sighed and said, "You could help me again, if you want." And then at this he smiled.

* * *

 "Good thing I replaced these walls with titanium steel. God knows where a tin foil would take you." Tony muttered, studying the exterior and interior of the machine. The machine was a rectangular shaped contraption. It weighs almost 3000 kilograms, thanks to the added weight of Tony's titanium walls. It looks like a large vault on the front, with a clear, fibre glass door. And when you look at the back of it, that's where you'll find all the wires wound together and connected to every socket possible in the room I specifically built for my project.

"I ran out of supplies!" I said indignantly and continued, "And the tin foil was working just fine. Though I don't really complain about this." I poured the electrolyte on the fusion reactor container and Tony set off the current at 3.4 gigawatts muttering "fucking electricity bills" which I giggled at. This is why I'm not on the finance end of our empire.

I locked in the needed tools about and around the machine and carefully stepped into the pedestal that would hold my feet and to withstand the wormhole leaping. Inside the time machine, which I fondly call The Vault, is a time device. It's for setting the time where I want to go to. It has a conjunctive microchip installed in my watch, which I altered to work as a remote. The thing is, upon getting to the place I desire, I only bring myself and my watch with me. Less hassle, and I thought 3000 kilograms is enough weight for everything. I check my watch and tune it with the setting I did on the time device. _June 18, 1942._

Here goes everything I worked on for the last two years...

"Ready?" Tony asked. He was really indispensable in my life. From keeping me alive to keeping my passion supplied, he was never short. I think, for a moment, that if my machine will malfunction and I get stuck somewhere that's not on Earth, then there won't be anyone constantly annoying my brother. And I'm still not adept to the fact that he might be having a lady friend soon.

So I said "not yet" and ran up to him, hugging him tightly until his insides hurt and he's saying "ow ow ow". I let go of him momentarily and hug him again, loosely this time, but conveying the same thing over and over ever since I started doing dangerous undertakings.

_Thank you and I love you and I will terribly miss you, if anything. But I assure you I'll be fine._

We let go of each other and he ruffled my hair, ruining my carefully-done coiffure. "Off you go, kiddo." I swat his hand away with a laugh. "Hey!"

I go back inside my machine, close the glass door and make the final arrangements, remembering my own guidelines. I turn on the machine slowly afterwards, flipping the heavy switch beside me. The Vault starts rumbling, and I shake with anticipation. Hair rise on my back, and I faintly hear my brother shout at me. "You will be fine?"

I shout back at him, "Yeah, but if not, read my manual," although I could not determine whether he heard nor saw me because of the blinding light of rushing time that swept over me.

* * *

Dark.

Dark _and_ stinky.

That's what I thought upon opening my eyes. I heard the bleep of my watch and looked over my unidentifiable surroundings. It seems like I was still in a box. I turned my head and realized that my head was spinning, so I didn't move until the next 5 minutes. After that, I tried kicking the door and another wave of light flashed on me, like the light that floods my room whenever the maids open the curtains.

I found myself in an alleyway, a U-shaped junction between two buildings. I was located at the back of a boulder that separated the alleyway into two, uneven spaces. By which you can only go around through a narrow path. I heard voices and afterwards a deep groan. I immediately check what was going on behind the large boulder.

There were exactly three people in the scene and I figured right away that it was a form of fight, judging by the way a frail, thin man was lying on the ground with his elbows to support his torso. Another was a burly man, who was being beaten up by a man in uniform. A soldier, perhaps. Their backs were all facing me, so I can't see their faces. I heard the man in the uniform say roughly to the burly man "Fight someone your size!" I thought the man in uniform wanted some help in beating up the asshole, but I saw that he was doing a pretty good job alone, so I went to the frail man instead.

I rushed to him and upon seeing his face I gasped in surprise when I saw Steve Rogers' pre-serum face.

He looked at me like I was predator(seeing as I was probably taller than him by a bit) and relaxed when he realized that a girl in a polka-dot dress was not much of a threat. I offered my hand to help him up and helped him dust himself off. He peered at me curiously, probably wondering what a lady was doing behind a boulder.

Lady, pftt. I shudder a bit.

"Umm, thanks..." He trailed off.

"Rowan." I supplied.

"Yes, right. Umm, thank you, Rowan. I'm Steve." He said, and I can't help but smile at his nervousness. Suddenly, I was enthralled with the way the serum changed him completely. I cannot comprehend how they could've made Captain America out of the lanky Steve. And guess what, I'm taller than him by an inch! I suppose I should be proud of Captain America, since his creation was partaken by my predecessor. But he wouldn't know that yet. I smiled and shook his hand, feeling all too surreal that I was able to touch a part of the raw form of Steve Rogers' extremity.

"It's no problem, really." The moment I told him that, another voice popped in and I immediately recognized it as the voice of the man in the uniform. "Steve, are you alright?" I turn to him and face none other than James Barnes, 107th Sergeant. I remember when I read the plaque in the museum once. I never forgot his face, surprisingly, but I wasn't at all expecting he'd be with Steve at this moment, because as far as I can remember he should be at camp right now. Training or something like that.

"Who's the lady? And where did you come from?" It took me minutes before I got to properly answer Bucky, I mean James-like he doesn't even know that I know him already- because I was still absorbing the fucking feels. I mean, first of all, my time machine worked perfect, Dad and Tony would be so proud, Mom felt that I could have been a good shopping buddy. Second, I just stumbled upon two of the greatest heroes before they became heroes and now James and Steve are looking at me and it's so crucial that I know something they don't and I can't tell them because I cannot possibly spoil them and outrun history before it could happen. Neither do altering time. So I can't tell them something like "yeah I just came from the 21st century and I time travelled because I'm a wild shit" because that would definitely throw them off. Totally.

"I'm Rowan. I was just, uhm...looking for my purse! I thought I'd find it here after a riot. Then I saw Steve here, and I helped him...err, I suppose." I told them instead, like I knew what happened last night better than they did.

"Riot?" Steve interjected. "I didn't know there was a riot last night."

"Me neither." James looked at me with a fixed gaze. He must have forgotten something because I don't know his name yet, or not supposed to. But then he realized this and his eyes widened, showing a magnificent shade of blue. "Oh, I'm sorry. I'm James Buchanan Barnes, miss. Bucky for short. I didn't quite catch you name...?"

I've told him that, haven't I?

"I'm Rowan...Collins." I said, remembering my grandmother's maiden name, seeing as I can't say I'm related to Howard Stark. I couldn't see what good it would bring if they knew I was a Stark.

"I didn't hear your name probably because I was too busy looking at your pretty face." Bucky said, at which Steve rolled his eyes on. I didn't know how to take compliments on appearance, I guess. I was used to being praised for my intelligence and creativity, but not this. The only people who tell me I was pretty was Tony, and Mom and Dad who used to. They were the only ones I let in my life. I've got no friends, pretty much. Except the other smart interns at the Stark industry. Usually, these days, only the same people understand their own kind. People thought I was a nerdy, stuck-up, weirdo with lots of money. I honestly couldn't care less about them. But now, this person, I don't know how to respond. He's obviously trying to flirt. People think this is a complicated thing but it's just simple. The forces of attraction are clear as far as behavior and psychological impulses are concerned. Nevertheless, people with weak minds often disregard it.

"Thank you, Bucky." I told him with an earnest smile, but I'm not up for any of his advances, if ever. I just wanted to see the 1940s, that's all.

"Well, do you need a walk home, Miss Rowan?" Steve asked. Always a gentleman. He never fails anyone, like, even the people he only knew minutes ago. At least that's what Dad said. Now, I could see the stories of my Dad about them come to life.

"No, no. It's alright." I said.

"Have you found your purse?" Bucky asked. I obviously don't have a purse, so I told them no, I have not, but I will soon because I remember my friend having it all along. They seem convinced, but with his gaze I knew Bucky would be an instant riff to my incognito mode. I mean, I could have encountered somebody less remarkable than these two in front of me.

Then I remembered, I wanted to have a remarkable moment with my invention. I won't patent it, that's why my only win is a remarkable moment. I think that's what brought me here in front of Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes.

I faked looked at my watched and said, "Oh! Look at the time! I must be off. Thank you for saving Steve, Bucky! And Steve, try to stay out of trouble, alright? Have a nice day!" I told them, running along the pavement with my kitten heels. I really should've ditched these for some flat ones, but I'm a 40s girl, remember? Part of the disguise. I'd love to hear more from Steve and Bucky but I'm afraid my remarkable moment is only a moment indeed.

Bucky called out, "Will I see you again?"

I glanced at him over my shoulder, the sun shining on my reddish-brown hair. "Don't count on it."


	2. Better Company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next time she sees Steve and Bucky, it was at a future show.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello guys! First of all, I just want to say sorry for almost two weeks delay for another chapter. I think the vacation is actually taking a toll on me. It's that ridiculous. And I wrote different drafts so it was hard to piece then together into one, coherent chapter. 
> 
> Also, I changed some things in the first chapter. Specifically, the dates. I made Rowan travel in June 1942, not 1938. I just finished watching the first Captain America movie and I saw some discrepancies in the dates. As if Marvel hadn't assured that yet. This was a good-natured dry humor. Sorry.

“Do you suppose something else could interfere with the way you travel through time? I mean, like a prophecy, higher order or something.”

Tony made a face at me. I groaned and said helplessly, “I know, it’s confusing.” We were eating breakfast the next day. After strolling around New York City, I can’t help but think why I never fully liked history. Perhaps it was because how they taught it at my school. It was a cranky, all-girls school with shitty people and so much drama. I was pulled out many years ago for bad example. They said I wrecked too much havoc, especially on the school electronics. One time, I made a special remote that I connected with all the school controls I could get my hands on. It was a massive prank-making beast. Tony thought it was fun, but Mom and Dad were more serious. It was supposed to be the best school at Manhattan, and I was banned from it because I caused a blackout while doing dissection which, of course, caused a _lot_ of problems. And it wasn’t even _half_ of what I did.

Don’t get me started.

Anyways, I realized that history is so much better when you see it yourself. Some people are immersed enough when being taught about it. Meanwhile, I needed a more tangible demonstration to fully grasp these things. Last night was the best history lesson so far. When I got back, I was too exhausted to tell all about it to Tony, so I went straight to bed without even changing my clothes.

Ugh, I must be reeking. The sun was up in New York last night. Godammit.

“You never told me what happened on your little trip.” Tony said accusingly at which I begrudgingly chewed my pancake. “It was the weirdest thing ever.”

“I can handle weird.” Tony mumbled before drinking his orange juice.

“I saw Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes the moment I stepped out of the dark void.” I absentmindedly said, still not believing the fact. It was so surreal that I even doubt myself. But no, I fucking _felt_ Steve’s hand. Skin to skin. It was there.  

Tony almost choked on his orange juice. “You what?!”

I laughed. He almost shat himself. “No shit, Tony. I saw them before Steve became Captain America. And Bucky, too! When he was still a sergeant." 

"What did they look like?"

"Just recall the pictures in the museum. Imagine Steve without all the muscles, and Bucky in a soldier's uniform. They're exactly like in dad’s stories. Remember when he told us how sweet and kind Steve was? All true. Oh and how right he was when he said Bucky was a ladies' man!" I have never met Captain America nor Bucky Barnes, and I don’t think I ever will. Not in our current period, at least. Ever since we were young, Dad would tell us stories about the famous avenger and the Howling Commandos. Whenever I do, I never get tired of listening to it. They're like bedtime stories for me and my brother.

I think Dad would've made a good history teacher. God, how I miss that man and my mother.

Tony took me out of my reverie. "And what of your question, dear sister?"

Oh, right. "I've always wanted to meet them, you know that. We basically grew up to their stories. I can't shake this feeling that maybe The Vault was a little bit subjective. You know, it can sense where you wanted to be, even if you don't realize it? I mean, I didn't even know I actually wanted to meet them until, you know." and I took a deep breath after. "I'm just so confused right now."

A bright smile dawned on my brother's face. "Well, if that's the case, this surely is your pre-operating magnum opus. Basing it all on subconscious and psychology. Good work, Rows."

"W-what?" I don't understand. "I didn't even put that in my manual. That setting is completely off the grid. Didn't mean for it to go like that."

Tony thought for a bit while rubbing the barely-seen stubble on his chin. "Perhaps it's the higher power. Fate?"  
I scoffed. "Please, that doesn't exist."

"Oh, have _faith_. Besides, if it's actually _your_   doing, then I'll try to make something of my own someday, but differently...How about an AI? Yeah, an AI butler. You'll only have to say 'lights off, please'." Tony smiled proudly and started to get up after finishing his breakfast. I think I might've caused his bright smile and new prospects.

A laughed escaped my lips and before I could even stop myself, I joined in. "And what accent will it be on?" I called out to him.

He stopped abruptly, turned around in an overly-dramatic fashion and said, "British." with a wink.

* * *

 

I visit a different era everyday. Different periods in various places. I went to Rome during the peak of Renaissance and saw young Da Vinci buying bread in the market. I asked people if they knew "where Leonardo Da Vinci is" and a little girl of 13 years actually brought me to him. I came face to face with a handsome young man and he immediately inclined his head to side like he figured something. Shit, in two seconds he found out I was not from that place, and a minute later he figured out I was not a part of this "dimension", as he called it.  
  
"What dimension?" I asked him. Disappointed because he found me out that quickly(I had my appropriate battle dress, for god's sake) and a little bit more impressed because he really is _intelligent_.  
  
Nevertheless, we became instant friends. He was eager to befriend me, given my...undertaking.  
  
"I figured you were not a person from here. Not from this time anyway. It was due to your mannerisms. The way you walk, ladies don't walk like that. A bit odd, actually. Your countenance, too. What time do you come from, if you don't mind me asking, my lady?"  
  
"I'm not a lady, Leonardo." I breathed a laugh at him. "I'm 600 years after your time." His eyes widened a bit further than regular shaped saucers. "But, you should never disclose any information about this. Ever. You must bring it to you grave. You're smart, so you must understand how disastrous it would be if you told anyone about this."  
  
"Mayhaps you're right, my la-err, Rowan." He smiled a little at me. "Besides, I'm never really someone who likes to talk."  
  
And in return of his discretion, he showed me the cave. The cave. Everyone on History Channel is talking about that cave.  
  
"You must not tell it to anyone from your place, my lady. Not even a word nor an ink on anything."  
  
"Not a lady."  I reminded him with a sharp turn.  
  
"What does the world don't know about me anyways?" He asked as we walked closer to the mouth of the cave at sundown.  
  
"Your sexuality." He laughed and we talked some more until it was time to go.   
  


* * *

 

It was a month after I decided to visit the 1940s again. I must say, that time grew on me. If I'm made to choose which period I'd want to be born in, I'd choose that.

I think I might be a little too giddy about going back there, but I can't help it. I wanted to see Steve and Bucky again if I could. I learned that the place we were last time was New York, so as far as I can determine, there was nothing wrong about going back to that place. Besides, it must be so fun to be a part of Steve and Bucky's life, even if I'm just like any other people that will come and go.

While I worked on prepping The Vault, I wondered if I'd be as interested in them if they had just been normal people I met while trying out my time machine. I decided against it right away, even if I hadn't met them at all, I'd still be loving them through my father's stories.

Just then, Tony entered the room. “Hey, going away?”

I mumbled an affirmation at him. “Where to?” He continued, “Hey, I found a periodical about Dad's shows in the 40s. Thought you might wanna see them.”

I raised my head to check what he's talking about. Tony handed my the old, dusty paper. Some bits are crumbling when you touch them, and the print is almost unreadable if you're three feet away from it. I brought it nearer to my eyes and saw on the front page my father in front of a car that's supposed to be futuristic that time. He was smiling proudly in the camera, he could have all the girls with that smile. I laughed when I remembered him say before about that smile. _“I had hard time smiling like that again after I met your mother.”_ He said it with a laugh that it's almost too painful to remember. 

I looked at the date of the periodical, and it said June 19, 1942. Weird. I think I recognize 1942 too much. I have my father to blame. He said it was one of his wonder years.

“I might check this out, you know? Dad's future show.” Tony stiffened. His eyes were wide and his jaws clenched. “I know, I'm sure about this. I'm not that easily crippled with memories of them now.” 

“Are you sure? This is different.” 

“Yeah, it'll be fun. I'll see him again. He won't recognize me but...who would not want to see their father's bachelor look?” 

 

* * *

 

When I reached the convention, I was overwhelmed with realizations. I just found out two things. First, whenever I visit 1940s New York, I'll always come from that alleyway where I found Steve and a large boulder. Second, I  _can_ bring stuff with me when I travel through time and space. It was taught to us that things couldn't pass through a wormhole such as this one, but whatever, just two years ago they said it was not possible to time travel. Ha! 

There were so many things to marvel and laugh about at this convention. There was a prototype for a microwave, and the people were so amazed. Oh boy, I can't wait for their lives to get better. I looked around some more before my father's future show started. 

It was red, blue, and white all over, with yellow lights to emphasize the colors. There were so many people who wanted to see what my father would do. I assumed that Stark was already a blooming name at this point in time. Girls came out from each side of the stage, and the last one to come out was my father. He looked so fine in his suit. Expensive, I think. It certainly looked like it. He kissed a girl who gave him a controller. My eyebrows shot up, amused. I suddenly wanted to witness the part of his life where he met Mom. 

Dad was showing some flying car(who knew he would be this  _advanced?)_ when I heard someone call my name. I looked behind me and saw Steve. He was with Bucky, and a girl was in front of him. Beside her was another girl clutching Bucky's hand. Bucky looked at Steve and looked at my direction. His eyes widened at surprise.

“Oh, hello Steve, Bucky. How are you?” I said, not really appreciating that they have other company. There could have been a better time for us to see each other again. But then, after all, time is kind of skebabbled at the moment. 

On my account, they had nothing to do about this. 

Steve stepped in front of the girl in front of him who's now glaring daggers at his form. He mumbled a quick sorry for bumping into her in the process. I smiled at him and glanced at Bucky who was looking at me. 

“Fine, we're good. We just came here a few minutes ago. How are you?” Steve asked. 

“Well, I got home safely after I talked to you two and...” I drifted off and my eyes wandered slightly before going back to Steve's. God, I'm so awkward and bad at this. “I ate and slept fine!” I said with a laugh. Steve laughed too and I was so relieved there wasn't any hint of suspicion in his eyes. The girls dragged Bucky to another place, probably too pretty to care about their friend's friend's friend. Bucky puffed jokingly, exasperated in girlish excitement. I think I could relate to that. I turned back to Steve. 

“Were those girls your friends?” I asked, just to be polite. I already had a feeling they weren't. 

“Nah. I think Bucky just met them a few days ago. It was supposed to be a double date but...” Steve rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. I frowned a little. He shouldn't be ditched like that. I saw how the girl who was supposed to be his date glared at him. _Wait until he gets all muscle-y,_ I thought to the girl. To cheer him up, I told Steve, “I'll be your date!” 

Steve's eyes were like saucepans. “W-what? No, no, don't bother yourself. You don't need to.” 

“Oh, don't worry about it. I came here alone, and I wanted to get to know you better, you know, make new friends.” I said, looping my arm with his. Steve looked confused, probably thinking why a gal taller than him would want to be his date. “Relax, Steve. Let's have fun.” I said with a smile. It made him smile, too, and his arm relaxed under my touch. 

I looked at my father on stage, and his eyes swept over me. He never saw me looking like this. He died when I was young enough to be a proper woman. I suddenly wanted to run and hug him, seeing as he won't recognize me anyway. I never thought about it before, but maybe I'll even find a way to stop him from dying. I'm going back to that fateful night. And when my parents leave, I'm going to tell them not to. 

I don't know how Tony would feel if I suggested it. 

I turned away before I could do something stupid, like cry. I tugged at Steve's arm and we went to the other side of the convention, my father's youthful voice faintly ringing in my ears. 

 

* * *

 

It was 6pm and people were strolling around the convention. 

Steve and I reached the hall-like entrance of the convention. It looked like the outside of a cinema, really. There were glass panels showing different pictures. One was a picture of some soldiers, and the biggest one's head was hollow. Steve cautiously let my arm go and walked towards the picture, his face not filing the hollow part because of his height. I sighed and walked towards the picture as Steve stepped out.

“I'm a great soldier! I'll kill all Hitler's little minions! Sir, yes, sir!” I said in my best manly-man voice. Steve laughed and I laughed with him. We spent the past hour telling stories about each other's lives. In a few months, Steve will be a super-soldier, and I'm with him now, sharing a laugh and some stories. I realized I love Steve's company. I actually made a friend from another time, and a superhero at that. I'm still trying to wrap my head around the idea.

“I'm sure you'll be a great soldier.” said someone. I immediately recognized Bucky's voice and turned to smile at him. “Yes, so I can save your ass on field.” Both men's eyebrows raised, and Bucky glanced at Steve bemusedly before going back to meet mine. 

I wondered if it was an inside joke or-- _shit._

It's not yet common for a lady of the 1940s to say ass in public. 

Fuck. 

“I mean you.” I said immediately, hoping to save myself from further embarrassment. 

“I know.” Bucky said, still amused at my obvious self-degeneration. I looked over his shoulder and saw the two girls from awhile ago waiting for him outside. He must've realized this when his smile faded and told me, “The girls and I are going dancing. Might I borrow Steve for a moment?” 

I looked at Steve and he nodded. “Sure, go ahead.” I went over to the other side of the hall. An old man wearing glasses stood beside me for awhile, looking at the picture of Uncle Sam. I noticed he kept looking at Bucky and Steve talking. I looked back at them and saw them briefly hugging each other. 

I went beside Steve and heard him say to Bucky, “Don't win the war until I get there.” Bucky smiled at him and glanced at me. God, I'm starting to feel weird from those glances he give me. “You're leaving tomorrow?” I asked him, loud enough so he could hear me. I think we're a few yards away from each other now. 

“Yeah. 107th infantry.” He answered. 

I didn't know what to say to a departing soldier, especially when you know what's going to happen to them. I swallowed a bit harder than usual and told in a meek voice, “Take care.” 

“What?”

“I said take care!” I said suddenly. His eyes softened before raising his hat to me and joining the girls. I turned to Steve and saw him looking at Bucky's retreating figure while he's still visible. 

For someone like me, I suddenly wished he spent this last night with us. I thought he deserves Steve and I's company better than those girls. 

And I don't want to go home yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, kudos, and other stuff are appreciated. ;)


	3. Kick Drum Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A whirlwind of events. You'll need lots of electrolytes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoop! Hello guys! Another chapter is here once more. I think now is the start of the shitting bricks period. That is all. Read and Enjoy!

I could see the dimming lights as evening approached fast in New York.

Steve and I parted ways shortly after Bucky left. I didn't want to burden him, or hinder him from something that might bring him closer to being Captain America, whether it might be sleeping at the right time or something. It's bad enough that I interfered with several hours of his day, and as much as I wanted to know more about him, I'm afraid to do something spectacularly stupid that might jeopardize history completely. Steve was reluctant to let me go by myself, but I assured him that I will be fine, and that my house is only a couple of blocks away from the convention center. He was still unsure, and it made my heart swell with silent gratitude.

“I'll be fine, Steve. I promise.” I told him, albeit not sure where to go after.

“I'm sorry we weren't able to hang out with Bucky more. He was a little preoccupied. With all the war that's going on and all that.” He said apologetically. I'm not entirely sure why he was saying sorry. It happens. It's not like they have a duty to entertain everyone they meet on the alleyway.

Woops, I just said the last part out loud, or maybe everything. I couldn't remember.

Steve laughed. “You're not just someone we met in the alleyway, you know? You helped me. And Bucky couldn't shut up after you left, well, until he asked me to go on a double date with those girls earlier.”

Now it was my turn to give a laugh, but I think it was less enthusiastic. “They _were_ quite pretty.”

Steve shrugged with all the power his lanky shoulders can muster. “Nah, what's the use of being pretty when you glare all the time?” He said with smile.

“I can't say I don't agree.” My face turned serious as his smile dropped. “Steve...”

“I know. They mean nothing now. Those glares, stares of disgust. I'm not exactly new to those.” Steve said. Right now, I really want to punch all the people who made him feel the teeniest bit inadequate. A man with a heart as big as Steve's shouldn't be treated with such disgust and indifference.

“Look, just because you're used to them, doesn't mean you just swallow them like a bitter medicine.” I touched his shoulder and continued. “You have a great personality, Steve. A good heart. All those asshats can fuck off. Whatever they think your differences are, ignore them. What you need to do is make the good stuff about you your armor, and no one can take you down.” I told him, and Steve just smiled at me.

“You're not from here, aren't you?”

I stopped. Had I blown my cover that quick, _again?_ “What are you talking about?”

“I mean, you're not from this place. I can't help but notice you talk more rowdy than most men here.”

“Oh, I'm-I'm just raised liberally by my parents. You know, freedom of expression, gender equality...”

Steve nodded slowly, “Most parents wouldn't do that. Especially you being a lady.” I just went with it, him calling me a lady. He didn't know my disposition about that in my own time, not like Leonardo does. 

“I know, right? It's why I love my parents. I think I might not be able to find a husband as understanding as them. Oh, ha-ha-ha.” I exclaimed, really wanting to change the subject. But Steve laughed. I like it when he laughs, because it means the everything is fine and nice and I'm safe.

Steve's laughed dissolved into a knowing smile. “I think Bucky would let you be yourself all the time, too.”

Now, as I look back on our last conversation, I can't help but think why Steve would say something like that. It was an implication of some sort, but I never thought Bucky would like me that much.

Seeing a stone on the sidewalk, I decided to kick it away from my path, just like I did with Steve's subtle hinting and thoughts about Bucky. It was 8 pm, hardly the time to go home. I passed by the dimly-lit streets leisurely, slight breeze on my face. In the morning the cars passing by would eject some lesser filtered smoke and more or less it would cause anyone to cough a bit, but once they've cleared off, the air becomes sweet like never before, you wouldn't even believe it's New York.

I walk some more straight ahead, trying to reach the end before I go back. I was even thinking of buying the first red dress I see as a jape at my self.

God, I'm so weird sometimes I just try to enjoy it.

Just then, as a car whipped pass me, I saw a familiar face on the other side of the road.

It's Bucky. Shit shit shit.

He was walking towards the other side. I looked around me and saw that I was the only one who was walking on that sidewalk so when I turned, my cream-white dress probably caught Bucky's eye and he turned around to see my horrified face. His eyes widened at recognition, and waved his arm and went “Rowan!” as he crossed the road which left me deliberating whether I should run right or left. Despite that, I decided a millisecond later to stay where I was and to greet him with a smile.

“Hey Bucky.” I said, a “what's up” threatening to bubble up my throat. Thank goodness I remembered to keep my language in check. I was actually afraid that the people might actually answer “the sky” or something along those lines.

Bucky answered. “Hey. What are you doing here alone? Don't tell me Steve left you all by yourself.”

“No no no, actually I told him I'll be fine going home by myself. He was adamant to walk me home but I really didn't want him to bother himself anymore. I can do it by myself anyway. It's not like something bad will happen to me here.” I was unsure about the last part. I mean, anywhere you go there is something unlikely that might happen. Bucky seemed to know this. “You never know. A lady like you shouldn't go walking around here. This street's deserted.”

For some unknown reason, my feminist instincts kicked in. I made it my prerogative to assert it every now and then. “And what kind of lady am I, huh?” I said, a bit haughtily.

Bucky smiled at my question. “Well, a pretty one, that's for sure.” My gaze softened and I mentally kicked myself. This man didn't mean any harm at all! Nevertheless, I still took his answer with caution. “You always know what to tell women, don't you?” I said. It wasn't a question, but the sudden twinkle in his eyes confirmed that yes, he does.

“Well...I suppose I do.” He said, looking as if he's humbling himself to even consider a no. I resumed walking, and Bucky took this as a cue to walk beside me. He tried asking me again. “Where do you live anyway? May I escort you home?” _Shit. What will I tell him?_ My head whipped around to look at him. Bucky raised his arms in surrender. “No funny business, I promise.”

 _No, that's not it, idiot._ The let side of my upper lip twitched. _I don't have a house you can escort me into._

Suddenly, an idea popped into my head. I looked at my watch-remote, 8:15pm. I won't have to be home until 8 am the next day. That is, at least, according to the manual of The Vault. I only have exactly 24 hours per travel. When I made it that way, I very much avoided the Cinderella shit where she has to be home by midnight. I reckoned time as something that can be manipulated but never cheated on. It's confusing but that's what it is, like it knows how to get back at you somehow.

Besides, technology and science are different from the fairy godmother's magic, after all. I grabbed Bucky's hand. “You're going tomorrow, right? For the war?”

He nodded, though there was a shift in his expression. Anxiety? Sad excitement? I can't pinpoint. 

“Do you wanna get drunk and dance tonight? Like, really dance?” I'm not sure if I can dance or get drunk, much less dance while drunk but alas, Tony's not here. I smiled like a 15-year-old on her first hardcore party.

Bucky laughed, unsure. “I don't think I should...” he said, rubbing the nape of his neck.

“Oh come on, I'll help you get out of hungover the next day. I make mean coffee for my brother in the morning when he gets drunk. Now tell me, where is the _best_ bar here?” I hurriedly dragged him forward. His laugh and murmurs of direction ringing in my ears. We continued walking, me slightly in front of him, pulling him still. I sneaked a look behind me, and I swear I saw him look at his hand in mine with a faint smile.

But it was too fast. He might've been grimacing for all I know, or telling himself “wow, they're the ones asking me out now”.

 

All I remember that night was having too many whiskeys, too many laughs with Bucky and funny old lads, many close calls where I counted the wrinkles around his eyes when he laughed too hard.

I don't remember the way back to a place though. His place, probably. Despite the hazy, warm lights and turning too much, I vividly remember one out of the many songs we danced to. It was “Love Turns Winter To Spring” by Martha Tilton and Bobby Sherwood's Orchestra. My mother loved that song, and I think she made my father love it too at some point. We played it one Christmas Eve, in our old record player, and I remembered it word per word. Apparently, it was a hit song when Martha sang it.

I also remembered “Dream a Little Dream On Me”. I heard it once, in an old tape by Ozzie Nelson.

“The women at the orphanage loves this song. I heard it for the last time when Steve and I ran away from the orphanage.”

And he told me more about him, I didn't forget those. He and Steve's adventures while trying to make it in the world. And here I was, never having to worry about the money I spend. Despite having drunk a little more than usual, I told my mind not to forget those. Everything but those. My father never knew this, and so his stories lacked the depth of Steve and Bucky's past struggles.

I remember holding Bucky a little tighter and telling him a few things about my life. The things I was comfortable to share.

It was perfect. No other lad tried to dance with me. I was too preoccupied dancing and talking and laughing with Bucky to notice them.

I remember passing by a few streets on the way to his place, too drunk and sleepy. Not that I can't go back home in a moment's notice. With a few turns of my watch, I could transport myself back to The Vault.

But I didn't. I didn't even try.

The Vault is a mass of cold metal, and I was too taken with Bucky's warmth.

* * *

 

So _this_ is how Tony feels every single godforsaken time he drinks.

I open my eyes with much disdain(the fucking lids won't go up that easily) and I feel someone breathe against my neck.

It's not like I'm playing one-night-only in Las Vegas here or something. I know it's Bucky. I sigh against the void on my right side, with him on the other. Until now, I continue to surprise myself, discovering only here what I never thought I could in my own time. I never knew I could be this comfortable with someone I just knew a day ago.

Then I thought again. _Too comfortable._

I gasp, and I try to disentangle myself from Bucky's arm, which as draped around my form. Shoot. I look down at myself, I'm not naked, except from my shoes with one beside the bed and the other on the other side of the room. Bucky was fully clothed, too. I look at his sleeping face and shook my head, thinking I could and should never wake up with him like this again. Last night was fun, but that was it.

I'm assertive about that part, but another part screams grief because of a period of fun dying before it could even spend itself to be _lived._

I check my clock and I almost screamed. It's 6 am in the morning.

I shouldn't really be surprised that I woke up at this time. In fact, I think Tony wakes up at around 9 am after his bongo bonanza.

But that didn't stop me from jumping out of bed in light speed, still careful about waking Bucky up. I could stay here and disappear without him knowing. But that would be rude. Even if it's almost a casual thing in my time, leaving while the other was still sleeping. I didn't think Bucky would miss me if I go away now, but something was telling my that I'd want to see his face when he wakes up. Just to see if he'll smile or say “oh, you're still here”.

I hear the bed screech, and it means Bucky shifted. I stopped combing my hair with my fingers and turned to look at him. I almost wanted to hide as his eyes squinted and opened after a minute or two.

“Hey”, I said. He frowned. Oh okay, now I know I'm not welcome here anymore.

“Leaving so soon?” he asked with a raspy voice and gazed at me. I didn't know if he was disappointed or whatnot but it made my heart unclench a little. He rose to a sitting position, but ended up reclining and using his elbow to support himself. He groaned and touched his head.

“I-I need to go, Bucky.”

“Wait, wait, Rowan.” He said, forcing himself to stand. He must've drunken a wee bit too much. I giggled at his wobbly knees. He looked up at me and smiled, despite his obvious hungover. “I'll take you downstairs.”

I took his arms and steadied him. “No, Bucky. Go back to bed. It's fine, really. Last night was great.” I said, looking at him straight in the eye, as if saying that I never needed anyone anyway.

“But I want to. Last night was great for you, but it was the best for me. I'll even walk you home even if it's miles from here and I have a terrible headache and bed hair.” I looked up at his hair and smoothed the strands out of line. When my eyes descended on his, I saw green and blue and grey all together, coexisting. We were serious for awhile, with me staring at his eyes and him staring back. My face broke into a grin. I remembered something. “Hey guess what?”

He gave me a curious gaze. “What?”

“I'm making you breakfast.”

* * *

 

I'm proud of my adaptability skills. Really proud. Perhaps this is my best skill set.

I maneuver myself to Bucky's kitchen smartly, touching the things like I use them everyday. I boil water for our coffee and make breakfast, a simple eggs and ham combo, while Bucky washed up in the bathroom. I thank my mother and my nanny Janey(bless their souls) for at least teaching me how to be worthy of the food I eat.

There were approximately four things I need to make a great anti-hungover coffee. It's actually just coffee, but what actually wears off the hungover is what I'll make him drink before the coffee. I used salt, juices of lemon and lime, that I found in a basket on top of the table, and a whole orange. With accumulated measurements in my head, I mixed them up together and prepared the rest of the coffee.

“Do I smell ham and eggs?” Bucky said just as he was out of the bathroom.

“You can smell eggs?” I say teasingly, “Weird.”

He plopped himself on a chair and buried his head in his hands. “Ugh, the headache is still there.”

I poured the electrolyte into two shotglasses and handed him one. “Drink up.”

He looked up from his hands and saw the lime-green liquid. “What's that?”

I answered, “My magic potion.” I wiggled my eyebrows and he chuckled.

“Is that a love potion?” Even in his current state, he could still jest like that. I bet a million bucks it wasn't his first time getting shitfaced.

Well, duh, Rows.

I laughed. “As if. Just drink it already!”

“Cheers?” he asked, and I smiled. We clunked the shotglasses and chugged them down. The effect of it was _glorious._

“Sweet heavens. What _is_ this? I feel a ton better.” Bucky looked at it like it was holy water.

The gears around my mind started moving as it dwelled on the facts. Hmm, let's see. _The first energy drink with electrolytes was made by Dr. Robert Cade to help the players of the University of Florida against heat stroke and excessive weight loss. They achieved a 8-2 score that season._

Yes, I remembered that. What else... _It was 1965. Gatorade went commercial in 1967._

_26 years from now._

No, I can't tell him that this is a goddamn electrolyte.

“Just...a drink I learned from my mother. We make it when my brother goes home drunk.” I lied, and I can't believe it's never too early for me to lie. We drink our coffees and eat breakfast with silence; a comfortable one for him and a tense one for me.

I needed to get of there as soon as possible.

A door closed, and Bucky and I looked over to see Steve rubbing his eyes and furrowing his eyebrows when he recognized that it was me sitting at their table at, I glance at my watch, 6:25 in the morning.

“Uhh...hey...Rowan.” he said.

“Hey Steve.” I replied, my face reddening at the look he gave Bucky as he went over to the sink. Bucky just smiled and took a bite of his bread.

“Steve, I made breakfast. Come and eat with us.” I say with perfect grace. A 1940s woman should have! _But Steve thinks you slept with Bucky, now what?_ I think to myself, and I choke on the coffee I was drinking. They both look at me. “Are you okay?” Bucky asked.

“Yes, perfect.” I smile stupidly. Steve sits on the empty chair and takes a piece of bread.

This is so awkward. Domestic awkwardness. I've never seen a chick flick where the woman stays this long and eats breakfast with the guy's flatmate.

I can just hear Tony's laugh in the distance.

I sigh and break and silence. “I better be off. My family must be looking for me, wondering where their Rowan has gone off to!” I said. With a shaky laugh, I stood up from the table and walked inside Bucky's room to get my purse.

Thank goodness no one tried to stop me or asked questions.

When I went out of the room, the two of them were still sitting on the chairs. I tried not to sense suspicion at their silence. At this point, I'd know somehow that either of them would try to take me home. Especially Bucky, I don't know what just happened or happening between us but the more I stay, the more it's hard to shake off and ignore.

But when they see me, they both stood up. I give both of them hugs. Bucky walks with me to the door. Surprisingly, he didn't persist to walk me home.

“I'll see you around, I guess.” I say, unsure of myself, unsure of what I might say in this post-awesome-holy-shit-I-need-a night. Bucky nodded and I frowned a bit upon walking out of the door. Why the sudden shift of mood/attitude? Not less than an hour ago, he was not so eager to let me leave the room. I forced a smile with all the logical understanding I could muster. Of course, he needed to prepare for his departure. And besides, I think it's clear that no man would want a woman he just met to stay after happy hour. Perhaps he realized that after taking the electrolyte.

I made a mental note to study about the side effects of electrolytes further when I get home.

6:40. For all Tony knew, I could be living for a year in this place. One of the bullets in my manual said that it's basically just like in Narnia. When I get back, time will resume like not more than a second passed.

I walked through the twist and turns of 1940s New York like I lived there all my life. I remember the way back to the alleyway by heart. I use natural navigation like the position of the sun, for starters. And then, I check the landmarks and the names of the streets, see if I can put two and two together. Modern America started at this era, so the names of the streets rarely changed, if not never.

Eventually, I found my way back to the vicinity of the alleyway. When I was only a block away from it, I rounded my watch. This was the latest I've been out of my time. I can always disappear anywhere after my time is up, but I prefer going back to the alleyway or from where I come from in any place, any era I go to. It gives me a sense of familiarity, something to remind me that I need to go back somewhere.

I entered the mouth of the alleyway. When I moved sideways to fit in the chasm between the boulder and the building wall, I dropped my purse. I gave an agitated sigh and went out to retrieve it. Just then, I heard a voice and saw shadows approaching.

“Rowan?”

_Fuck._ This is why I need to listen to myself whenever I feel like shit's going down. I gritted my teeth together and grabbed my purse from the dusty ground. 

I looked up to see the scathingly curious and confused faces of Steve and Bucky. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger, I know. Somehow, I want you to hold your bricks together. 
> 
> Comments are very much appreciated, among other wonderful things. :)


	4. Shallow Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think Bucky liked the electrolyte a wee bit more than he was supposed to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello guys! I've been ecstatic lately, with all the kudoses and the number of reads this story is getting every time I update. It's fantastic! Your reviews, too. :)) It's just starting but I already feel the love. Hahahaha :))
> 
> And thus I update. Sorry this is a terribly short chapter. I didn't want all the chapters to be cut like a cliffhanger or something.

"I'm a time traveller."

  
After fifteen minutes of a stare contest in the alleyway, I found myself back at Steve and Bucky's apartment. I was back in the chair I previously sat upon at their table, with Steve and Bucky on their exact previous places, too. They were both wearing serious expressions, and I can't help but feel like a child caught stealing a cookie from mom's French collection of delectables.

  
"A what?" Bucky said as Steve muttered an almost inaudible "that's impossible".

  
I heaved a deep sigh. There's going to be a lot of explaining to do. All the lies I've told them will be unravelled and explained one by one, and I prefer that I do them myself rather than they found out the truth from some stupid passerby. "I'm not kidding. I'm a time traveller. I travel through time, with a time machine."

  
"So wait, you come from a different time? You're not from 1941?" Steve asked and I nodded. Of course, the concept of time travelling is completely out of their daily grind. Doctor Who, which would've probably made my explanation easier, wasn't out until the 60s.  
  
I puffed some air out of my lips. Back then I thought I would be fine even without having to explain myself.  
  
"So _when_ are you from, then?" Bucky asked, and I tried not to mind the blades in his voice, his tone, the way he's looking at me, and the shitty feeling I'm having.  
  
"I come from the next century." I paused and continued after a beat. "The 21st."  
  
I can feel the tension in the room. It was so palpable I can slash it with my fingers, like a cobweb, wrapping them around my finger in an uncomfortable way.  
  
"How is that possible? No one has ever done that. Ever." Bucky groaned. Steve is looking hard at me, like he was ready to pounce on me anytime.  
  
"It is. Technology is much more advanced in my time." I passed a look on the both of them. "Look, I'm terribly, terribly sorry that I lied. I-I didn't want to lie, but I had to. Many people would not understand the hazards of changing history. Do you think I could just introduce myself to everyone like "hey, I come from the future. Wanna be friends?""  
  
"But still..." Bucky said. "What? That's the only thing I could do." I say, exasperated at my obvious failure at coming across.  
  
Steve interjected. "So that's your job? You travel through time for a living?"  
  
I shake my head. "No, no. I don't do it for a living. I make electronic stuff to pass time. I've been working on a time machine since two years ago in my time. I tried it out first here, and that's where I met the two of you. After that, I went to much older periods. I came back here after a while."  
  
"But it was only the other day when we met you." Steve said.  
  
I smiled mirthlessly. "That's how time travelling works. I can come back tomorrow after 30 years or even after two days."  
  
"I'm still trying to process this information." Bucky said, more to himself than to either of us. I grabbed his hand from across the table and said, "You don't have to carry this burden of knowing. I could go back to yesterday, on the other day, and I will avoid seeing you. You'll never meet me, you'll never know. This conversation we're having, it won't happen."  
  
I saw a lump in Bucky's throat. He clenched and unclenched his jaws and forced the lump down and turned our hands.

And then he did the unexpected.

He laughed. A short chuckle. It wasn't sarcastic, neither was it ironic. It sounded amused, like he thinks it's funny, like I said something silly. I looked over to Steve and saw that the almost-angry stare he was giving me minutes ago has turned into an unreadable expression. I feel sorry inside that the circumstances could not have been better.

“You think that I would actually want to exchange all of this for...nothing? For not knowing?” Bucky asked.

I honestly didn't know what I thought. It was just a suggestion I was willing to go with.

I tore my hand away from his slowly. “I don't know. You weren't supposed to find out...” and then I finally let myself be disappointed for my carelessness. _Smart girls get things done_ , I thought to myself. _Not fuck things up._

“So what happens now?” he asked. I glance over my watch and found out that I only have 15 minutes left until I am forcibly brought back home.

“I have fifteen minutes left.”

“We can wait.” Steve said. I did not expect him to say anything, given what I did. “We'll wait for you.” Until now, he's still kind towards everything. He should be kicking me out, really. I don't think he will really do that but that's what I expect from a normal human. I expect that they would rid themselves of freakish things and wash me off of their hands before they get into trouble.

“But-” I turned to Bucky, “don't you have to prepare things for when you leave? And shouldn't you both be angry at me? I-I'm a freak! You don't understand what I'm saying to you and I just barged in, pretending that I'm some normal girl living here.”

“We're not angry. You didn't try to hurt us, or anyone in this place. You just wanted to explore, right?” Bucky said. I nodded and he continued, “Besides, I already packed my stuff last Monday.”

I give him a small smile, and he returned it. “We'll keep your secret.”

“Thank you.” I say earnestly. Now I knew what the people saw in them. _These boys..._

I wanted to hug them, but I resolved into telling them anything they might want to know, since lying to them would be pointless anyhow. “You can ask anything, you know? About all of this. I suppose the only way I could repay you is by telling you the truth.” The boys then proceeded to bombard me with questions.

“Why did you come back here the second time? I mean, you could've went somewhere else.” Steve asked. I smiled ruefully, remembering my father's smile. “I wanted to see Howard Stark.” I said. His eyebrows furrowed, “What about him? Did you know him in your time?”

Now at this point, I was threatening to close off. “He's my father.” I said, choosing an unreadable mask to hide that I miss him more terribly now than I used to in years. Their eyes widened in surprise, but Bucky dismissed the thought with a one-sided smile. “Yeah, you do look a bit like him.” and added for after “and that explains why you're smart”.

I raised my eyebrows at him quizzically and he smiled even more. “The thing you made me drink? Only a smart person would be that methodical.”

I chuckled. “Yeah, it's called an electrolyte. You wouldn't have it here until 1980...” and I paused, realizing that Bucky and Steve won't be around anymore when that happens. I shrug and bury my guilt further below the ground.

“You think you would know us in your time?” Steve asked, his eyes hopeful of a good future, that he would make it in this world until he's old and gray. It pierced my heart. My face contorted in pain for a split second, but thank god, thank god he missed it. I wanted my time to be over right now, but I got a few minutes left, so I smiled at him apologetically at him. “That's an awful long time from here.” Steve seemed to understood and nodded silently. 

“Will we win the war?” Bucky asked suddenly. Now I was the one laughing at his silliness.

“Don't ask me questions about the future. It might change the outcome.”

“We're not someone important. What harm could we do if we'll know?”

I looked at his eyes and filled it with light. I was like a nanny telling a magical bedtime story. “Everything.”

My watch bleeped. It means I have a minute left. “It's time?”

I nodded. Bucky held me left hand and Steve gingerly took a hold of my right hand. Bucky wanted to say something but stuttered. “D-do you..do you think you would want to...come back?”

I was taken aback, but I gave him a smile nonetheless. I already knew my answer, but just as I was opening my mouth to speak, I saw my hand in his and the rest of me drift to nothing.

* * *

"I saw Dad yesterday." 

Tony paused. "Oh?"

I smile halfway through my sandwich. "Oh, I did. He was fantastic, confident, and a bit ambitious. He tried making a flying car! It collapsed after a few seconds, though." Tony laughed. "Yeah, that was what it said on the periodical I brought," Tony caught my attention and looked at me seriously. "You didn't...you didn't try to talk to him, did you?"

"No, I went away as soon as possible. It was fool-proof, Tony. Even if he wouldn't recognize me in his late years, I didn't risk it."

Tony resumed buttering his toast and said, "Good, what else did you see? How about Steve and Bucky?"

"I saw them, actually. They were at the show, too." I didn't want my brother to know that I slipped in my little mission, so I left out the part where I slept in their apartment and made some goddamn electrolyte which was apparently a foreshadowing to my cover's demise. "But they left early. They were on a double date."

Tony shrugged before taking a huge bite on his toast. I chugged down my coffee and got ready for my internship at Stark Industries. I think I don't even need it anymore, considering I knew the ins and outs of the company(but not the _finance,_ gods) and the technology behind it. But I thought that since I'll pretty much end up working here, I should try at least to fit in with the other interns.

But I think being 18 and holding a degree in Physics didn't help in my case. _Ugh, dang it, just do it Rowan._

Also, I think this would be a nice recluse from my previous marathon through dimensions. When I came back the day before, I saw some cracks on the door of The Vault. It should be nothing, really. It must be only from the static. But I was uneasy, I plugged it off and patted its side, said "you did a good job, buddy" and made it rest. You must know, I'm viciously caring over my electronics.

Well, it _is_ disastrous if you're careless with them.

I think I might not go for a few days. From this dimension, they could be waiting for me. For another, it could starting, still.

There a many infinities, I believe in that. There's an infinity for every scenario possible, and I tried not to think of the bad ones where they hoped I'd come back sooner.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But, I'm working hard so that this will be the only short chapter in the story. Hahaha :))
> 
> Anyways, review, kudos, or anything, I won't have them any other way. :)
> 
> PS: Have you seen the Sebastian Stan fandom/Winter's Children Clique multiplying by the second and the ships sailing on their own?


	5. The Spectacular Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay. I've been on other things, and there was a power shortage a week ago. It was frightening. 
> 
> I thought I might split this chapter into two chapters, but I was like 'meh'.
> 
> New characters. You've been warned.

I think everybody hates me here.  
  
Not the kind that makes Cinderella cry every night because of her bully stepsisters and stepmother, though. I just think that in my three days here at SI, so far none of these interns wanted to do anything kind other than glare at me whenever I pass by or whisper "my brother owns this company and I'm just a rich, stuck-up bitch" behind my back.

Technically, I also own this company. But I kept that to myself, thinking I'd earn more enemies that way.  
  
It's getting kind of frustrating, really. The facilitators, Kyle and Mickey, they try to make me feel as comfortable as possible. They put me on activities and games for the interns but there I was, always in an awkward situation wherein I wish I could've just done anything other than join this stupid internship.  
  
And hey, shouldn't I be treated the kindest? I mean, shouldn't they be trying to kiss up to my ass? Not that I would like it but I thought that's how the story goes.

Oh, fine.

Ow! I bit the side of my tongue, not noticing the increased pace of my chewing.

"Mind if I sit?"  
  
I look up to see the owner of the voice while nursing my injured tongue. I probably looked ridiculous because I was grimacing the whole time. But with added vigour at my possibly new friend, I eagerly nodded and invited him to sit beside me. "Sure, sure."  
  
When he sat down, I immediately noticed the contents of his tray. Beside a chicken sandwich, brownie and a can of soda was a book written in French. I wasn't that good in the French language, just conversational. And with that I was able to translate the French title in my head.  
  
The Stranger, by Albert Camus.  
  
"Nice book." I said, looking up from the book to him. He raised his eyebrows at me in acknowledgement while he drank from his soda can. I noticed that his eyes were a clear sheet of blue. It wasn't a piercing or a staggering shade. Rather, it was nice to look at.  His hair were golden blond. It was slightly dishevelled, as if he ran his hand through it just now. But it fitted him, and he still looked suave and...  
  
...French.  
  
"Hmm, you've read it?" Frenchie asked. His voice clearly indicated that English was not his mother tongue and he was definitely _not_ American.  
  
"Yeah, I remembered reading that from my dad's study. I was bored at that time."  
  
"And how did you find the story?"  
  
I thought for a moment. "Less boring." to which he chuckled.  
  
Despite my aching tongue, I bit my muffin with a smile. New friend: check but not really. I'm hoping that before any of us stands up from this bench table, there's already a solid check. "Are you French?" I asked suddenly.  
  
He was caught off-guard but he smiled, amused. "How did you know?"  
I shrugged. "You read a French book, you look French, and your accent screams not American."  
  
He clicked his tongue. "I'm a French major, but I'm not French." I raised my eyebrows questioningly, but more importantly disappointed that I hadn't got that one right. "Not entirely, at least."  
  
"Ha! Yet you're still French, Frenchie." I boasted, at which he just looked at me bemusedly. I hadn't realized I stood up just to say "ha!" to prove my point and the crumbs of my muffin scrambled down my blouse onto the floor. I inwardly sighed, less chance of having a new friend and more of a creeped-out acquaintance.   
  
I sat back down and brushed the remaining crumbs off my blouse. "So what else are you?"  
  
He grinned maniacally. "American."  
  
"What?! I could not have guessed that."  
  
"Why not? I speak English properly, and not those wrong in grammars and such."  
  
"I could have guessed Russian, if possible. You had the looks for that, I tell you..." I continued after a mechanical sip of juice after a minute-long bite. I'm maximizing the 2 hour break they give here at SI during lunch. I think we're not even done with the first hour. "You grew up here in America?"  
  
He nodded. "California."  
  
"Ah, California's Golden Boy." I smirked at my nickname for him. "Charmed any Californian gals?"  
  
"Nah, they found out soon that I'm more interested in books than their hair extensions."  
  
I was the one who clicked my tongue this time, but I admired Frenchie's resistance against valley girls. Finally, more people are realizing their true nature. "You're gay?"  
  
"I think saying that I think you're beautiful is answer enough."  
  
"It didn't. I have a gay friend who thinks I'm the most beautiful girl on earth." Not true.  
  
"I'm not gay." He says with so much seriousness in his tone that I resisted my urge to laugh.  
  
"Alright, fine. Manly man, it is. I don't know your name, though."  
  
He gasped, and I knew it was mock self-deprecating. "Oh, where are my manners? I'm Alfred Winchester."  
  
"Yeah, and I'm-"  
  
"Rowan Stark. Everybody on a 50-mile radius knows it." He said with a slight, apologetic smile. He must've understood why I was alone on the bench table.  
  
I furrowed my eyebrows at his inaccuracy. He should've just stayed a French major. "But this place is only on 35-mile."  
  
"Exactly."

Solid check.

* * *

After a few days of practically talking only to each other and enduring the gossiping interns that fry us on their lunch table, Alfred and I knew almost everything about each other. He just didn't know my time-travelling pastimes.  
  
Turns out, Alfred was here on the SI internship because his American dad stopped him from finishing French as a major because of his already-French heritage. He says it's redundant, and that he should try engineering for a better cause. He just says that he was a French major because he didn't like engineering _that_ much. His mother was the reason he loved France and its literature. She used to take him to Paris to visit his grandfather. His dad, though, was the reason why he was here at SI. He just didn't want to be here, because his passion lies elsewhere. I kind of envied him, because he knew what he wanted in his life. Meanwhile, I only went here because I got nothing else to venture on besides a life at Stark Industries. Once, I even questioned if my given talents were a calling/foretelling or a result of what was spoonfed to me or just because it runs in the family that I chose to run with it.  
  
"What do you want to do? That's the question. You can do whatever you want, frankly. All you have to do is find out what it is." Alfred told me suddenly. I realized I said the parts about me out loud.  
  
"And what about you? Why don't you do what _you_ want?"  
  
"Touché."  
  
"Why don't we do this, though. If you get out of this internship and finish your French major, I'll do what I want. Surely if I start now, I'll find out about it in no time."  
  
He looked troubled. "Are you sure?"  
  
I leaned in as if to challenge him. "Hell yeah I'm sure. Tomorrow, I don't want to see you here anymore. You should try an escape route out of the country. But tell your mom, for god's sake. She's a kind woman, that one. Reminds me of my own. But we should e-mail each other. Or call by phone. Or telegraph. Whatever suits you."  
  
He chuckled shakily. "I..I don't know, Rowan."  
  
"Oh come on. Just stand up to your dad once in awhile. Just tell him, 'hey dad, get off my back and let me do what I want, okay?' Or this 'fuck off, dad! Stop dictating my life for once!'"  
  
"You're crazy, you know that?"  
  
"Just say it!"  
  
"FUCK OFF, DAD!" he said, and it came off as a well-hidden exclamation he so wanted to spill a long time ago.  
  
We laughed because he said it in French, and it was a very satisfying irony. An act of rebellion. The next day, I didn't find Alfred at SI, or at the bench table we claimed as ours, proudly named "misfit table". And I decided that I'd be going out as well, thinking I have some more important matters to attend than simpering fucktard interns. Taking his e-mail and contact details from Kyle, whom he had left it to, I made a beeline for my house and for The Vault.

* * *

I came back on the day after Steve saved the troops from 107th infantry. I immediately went to the pub where Bucky took me the first time. And when I entered the pub, it was packed with soldiers off-duty.  
  
Good sign, I suppose. Bucky could be here, or at another pub. But I kept my hopes up. I saw a round table, surrounded by overly-familiar faces.  
  
I gasped. The Howling Commandos! And oh god, Steve was there as well. He's now on the serum. And even if the present world knew what he looked like all along, I still cooed in appreciation at the live preview.  
  
"Holy shit, Steve?"  
  
Steve looked at me and almost spat his drink out.  
  
"God, Rowan!" He exclaimed before putting his glass down and swooping me for bear hug. After a few moments, I pulled away and actually looked at him.  
  
"Wow. That's all I can say. Wow."  
  
"I'm still havin' a hard time believing it either. Oh, Rowan, I'd like you to meet my comrades." I smiled eagerly as I was about to meet the most epic group ever.  
  
"Sgt. Timothy Dugan," he pointed to a jolly-looking man with a fancy moustache. At the same time, he looked like he could fight Bruce Lee in the most fiercest stance. Sgt. Dugan raised his ale-clad hand at me.  
  
"Sgt. Gabriel Jones," he gestured to a dark-skinned man who politely smiled at me and said, "you can call me Gabe."  
  
"Of course, Gabe." I said, more than happy that I'm on a first-name basis with the Howlers. If there was no table, then they'd see my feet fidgeting from my fangirling feels. Tony would be so, so, jealous.  
  
"Sgt. Jacques Dernier," and Steve directed me to a good-natured man beside Gabe Jones. His smile says he's kind, but his silence says something of a good soldier, somehow. Gabe whispered something to him and he then smiled to me and said "Bonjour, mademoiselle."  
  
I've never felt more "mademoiselle" in my life.  
  
"That man over there with a fancy hat is Sgt. James Falsworth."  
  
"Oi! It's a beret, Rogers!" Falsworth said, voice heavy with British accent. I've known that he was one of the best Allied soldiers who ever lived. He turned to me. Since he was the closest to me from where I was standing, he was able to hold both my hands. I was a wee bit flushed at the gesture.  
  
"My, my, you're a pretty one. Where are you from?"  
  
"Just around here, sir. I'm good friends with Steve and Bucky before they went off to war." I said, and I think Steve was a bit lost at how I could spin a simple lie in a matter of seconds with a brilliant smile to top it all off.  
  
"Sgt. Jim Morita," a Japanese man waved at me and said, "I'm from Fresno, ma'am. Ever heard of that place?"  
  
"Of course, sir. Went there with my family when I was but a little girl. A bit warm, though." True, my parents took me there one-time. It was part of our tours way back. Jim Morita laughed and nodded his head.  
  
"It was a pleasure meeting you, sirs."  
  
"What is your name, pretty lady?" Sgt. Dugan asked merrily, like how he would ask his daughters something.  
  
"Rowan Collins, sir. I'm just from around the corner."  
  
"Then you ought to be here when we celebrate after taking down the Axis!"  
  
"Of course," I said, sending a look to Steve that said "promise". He beamed at me. "I'll be here."  
  
Steve spoke up. "If you'll excuse us, gentlemen. I'll get this one a drink."  
  
Shouts and hoots from the table could be heard as Steve and I laughed.  
  
"Atta, girl!"  
  
"Pray for our souls, pretty lady."  
  
"My beret will look fantastic on ya!"  
  
"Where's Bucky, Steve?"

"Right around here," he said, and there on a bar stool sat Bucky, in all his disheveled glory.

"Hey Buck, look who's here." Steve piped. And the next thing I knew, I was against a hard chest and inside firm arms. I leaned in and smelled smoke and rain and Bucky.

Bucky.

"Dang, Rowan. Decided to show up just now?"

I shrugged at him with a smile after he let me go. "Did you honestly think that I'd let you boys run around with your guns for too long?"

"Nah, I'm sure you won't." Bucky said as he led me to a seat beside him. Steve flagged the bartender for drinks, handing me one after a minute.

"I'll tell you one thing, that kid beside you saved hundreds of lives just yesterday." I beamed at them. "But you already know that, didn't you?" He finished.

Steve turned to me. "You also know that I'd be Captain America." I was sitting in the middle, and so I shrugged while twisting the mug on the table. "Maybe...But I can't tell you what happens next. How'd you like being Captain America?"I retorted.

"Don't force the lady, punk." Bucky said to Steve, who shrugged, unfazed by his Most Fierce Stare. It was a thing I made up. I'll name some of their most natural expressions. Steve has his Very Pleasing Smile, and Bucky has another. It was the Very Meaningful Stare. But I wouldn't tell them that. It's just that, I grew quite accustomed to their nature, even if they've known me for only a pinch of their lives. Somehow, despite knowing how their lives end, I wanted to be a part of those who'll remember them personally. Kind of like the person who knows them but won't ever try to speak during their funerals because they know too much and it would take about a lifetime to express how they feel.

But then again, just a pinch.

Steve broke my out of my reverie. “I asked Bucky here if he'd follow me to war. And he said, hell no I'm not. I'm following the kid from Brooklyn who always gets into fights to war.”

I sipped from the mug and said, “You should marry each other. When the war's over.” Bucky laughed, and I glanced at him and found that he was staring at me the whole time.

I'm trying not to be assuming.

“I'm not marrying that punk. But I see someone who might....” Our heads whipped to the other direction where Bucky is looking, and I see a gorgeous woman in red. At that moment I knew she's stole the spotlight, but it was alright. She looked slightly more matured than me, so strong, so confident, so beautiful, and so _smart._ All women should aspire to be like her. At least, I do. “Peggy!” Steve called out. This was the first time Steve's voice got that shaky that night, even when he saw me he wasn't that shaky. Then we all stood up from our seats.

Steve and Miss Peggy exchanged a few words

Peggy's eyes moved to Bucky and I, and Bucky acknowledged her with a simple “Ma'am.” and when her eyes swept over to me, I froze. She looked so familiar.

“Who is she?” Peggy said, scrutinizing me and possibly _profiling_ me. I sighed in my head. _Agents._

“She's our friend, Rowan Collins. We met her before going off to the war. Rowan, this is Agent Peggy Carter. We work with her.” Steve introduced us. 

“How you doing, Ma'am?” I said. 

“Good, thanks. You?” Peggy answered. 

“I'm good, too. You look so familiar to me, though. Have we met somewhere?” I asked her. Steve and Bucky exchanged glances, probably thinking that 'somewhere' meant the future. 

“I doubt it. Pehaps in the future you can ask me that, and then I'll say yes.” Pause. None of us spoke. “I was kidding.”

I laughed and made it seem convincing.  _That_ was an example of an innocent jest, but Steve, Bucky, and I knew it could have been a horrendous implication. 

Shit, shit, shit, calm your heart, Rowan, I thought to myself. I felt Bucky's hand on the small of my back, and to say I didn't like it would be a lie. 

Bucky laid a paper bill on the bar counter and said, “Well, I'll be taking the lady out for some fresh air.” This prompted a look from Steve and Peggy, who were previously and  _obviously_ in some eye sex or something. 

“What?” I whispered. He picked up my coat for me from the bar stool and handed it to me. He pulled my close and his breathe tickled my ear. 

“Just go with it, doll.” I looked back at Steve and he winked at me. Ugh. The serum made him slightly infuriating, if ever. How dare he imply something using his eyes! 

I'm being fucking paranoid. 

“oh, okay.” and when we got out of the pub, I looked incredulously at him. “Is _that_ what teenagers say these days?”

Bucky grinnned cockily, looking forward. His hands were tucked on the pokets of his brown coat, which swayed when he walked. If inside the bar he looked gloomy, now he was just languid and at ease. 

“You know you wanted fresh air and you just don't want to see Steve and Peggy make love with their eyes. Admit it.”

I mock-gasped and stopped walking abruptly. Bucky stopped walking as well and turned to me, expecting to get a laugh from my next words. “Why would I not? That's a clear expression of affection and I think I just swooned.” and I did a little trust fall on the sidewalk with the back of my right hand on my forehead and my left hand pressed to my heart. 

Bucky caught me with laugh, and when his arms wrapped around me it was like we were doing a scene for a John Hughes film. 

Don't get me wrong, his movies were cool.

I stood shakily, feeling the night air on my face once again. In present-day New York, I wouldn't feel this carefree on such nights. And for whatever reason, I felt utmost relief that Bucky was with me and not some guy from anywhere or any time. 

Is that a good sign? 

“So,” I started, when I got tired of hearing my heels click loudly onto the pavement. “where are we going?” 

“Do you want to go somewhere? Is there some place here you haven't explored yet?” I laughed. This is better, that he knows the truth. We can joke about it and all that. I pondered his question for a moment. In fact, there is one place I haven't seen yet in 1940s New York. 

“We should run around Central Park.”

And we did. We chased each other in the park at the dead of the night. We were laughing uncontrollably like children. He got me 10 times and I got him only twice, with all that only because he took pity and slowed his pace. 

I was in heels, mind you. 

When we finished, the heels of my shoes were busted. They were thick, but they still got worn out. I couldn't care, though. That was worth many laughs from the both of us. When we got tired, we shrugged off our coats and sat on them under the chilly night. Bucky sneaked a glance around the place to see if it was safe. He didn't know I did, too. 

“What's that?” he said when I brought out my iPod. It was a small thing, and so the light it shed was minimal and wouldn't attract anyone nearby. 

“It's an iPod. It plays music. It's quite common in my time.” I explained as I untangled the earplugs. Bucky was looking at it with awe and curiosity. He touch the circular navigation tool and squeaked when the screen moved, flashing colors. “I can't imagine how they managed to create a thing that lets you listen to music anywhere and anytime you wish.” I fondly watched him take all the mechanics of a simple device in. The picture quality of this time were not as clear compared to what he was seeing on this small contraption. I gave him one of the plugs. He just looked at it. “Look here and mimic how I do it.” I demonstrated how to put the plug on properly. Then, I took the iPod from his hands and picked a good song. He rested his chin on my shoulder, watching as I control the device like it he couldn't believe I use it everyday. 

I chose David Bowie's “Heroes”.

We laid back on the grass, side by side. And the whole time, I was watching Bucky's reaction to new wave. His eyes widened as if he heard God speak. 

I smiled, understanding that feeling. The feeling of hearing a shitass good music for the first time. It has no words. I closed my eyes and faced the sky, letting myself feel the music. 

I felt him grip my hand everytime we reach the chorus. We played a few more after that, and he was ecstatic when he heard The Beatles. 

“Weird, queer music. They sound so...liberating.” He said during our walks back to his and Steve's apartment. After a minute of arguing, I agreed to spend the night. In his room. No funny business. 

For that, I was thankful. 

“I know, right? Who's your favorite so far?” I asked, falling into a side step with him. When Bucky noticed, he smiled. He struggled to recall, snapping his fingers. 

“The Who.” he said when he remembered finally. “Nice choice.” I smirked at him. 

“Are you feeling hungry, Rowan? Want to go grab something before heading home?” He suddenly asked. I noted how he used the term “home” even when he could've said “my home” or “mine and Steve's place”. Nonetheless, he chose a term so general that I felt included. I felt welcome. I think I could've outshined the moon with my smile. 

I looped my arm through his and I realized how I liked us this close, that I can rest my head on his shoulder. 

“Nah, I'm good. Let's head home.”

 

* * *

“I like this one. It reminds me of spring.” 

“Really?” I asked, wondering how The Radio Dept.'s “I Don't Like It Like This” did that to him. It must be the tune. It does that to everyone. 

We laid on his bed in our pajamas wherein I borrowed one from him, despite being loose around the hips. We continued listening to songs on my iPod. 

“Yeah. Have you gone out of the city and experienced the spring afternoons there?” he asked.

“This music makes you poetic, you know that? And yes, I have. It was good, but I can't remember them all that much. It was a long time ago.” I said. 

Bucky turned his body to face me. I did the same. We switched the plugs to the other ears which weren't squashed to the pillows. “Me too,” he said in a hushed whisper. “I've gone out there when I was six. It was a very long time ago, I know. But I will never forget it. It was my only memory of my parents.” 

I was startled at his confession. I did not know how people take confessions. I wasn't ready for those, so I just nodded."Do you want to talk about it?" "it" meaning how he was almost brainwashed by HYDRA. It was sickening, and I can't imagine Bucky's life without remembering anything.   


"I just-I almost lost that memory. And-and the monsters in that place wouldn't even care." he said.

“Do you want to know something, Buck?” Our eyes never left each others' face. “My parents died when I was 14. It was a car accident.” I felt him take a hold of my hand. He was drawing lazy circles at the back of my hand. I continued, “that's why I was hesitant when I built my time machine. I didn't want to be tempted to change history. Even if it was painful, I didn't want to change it. You might think I don't care about my parents, or that I should've tried at least. But the thing is, I'm way ahead of it all. I'm in the now. I chose not knowing instead of trying to change the way I live in the present...” 

I let my fingers intertwine themselves with his. 

“...I don't want to tell you what happens because we all deserve to live in the now, not worrying about what comes next. As bizarre as my entrance here was, I wanted you and Steve to maintain some sort of realism in your lives. Living in the now. Your now.” 

Whatever Bucky was searching for in my eyes, I think he found it almost after I finished my mini-monologue. As if my own confession was the one he's been searching for. As if he was relieved to have unravelled some mystery in me. 

“I like how you say things. You put feelings into words and they're perfect. You'd be a great writer.” 

I chuckled. “I doubt it.” 

“No, really. You should try it.” he paused. “You know what I'd like to do right _now_?” 

“What?” I challenged him, and he leaned forward. In the dark, I felt his warm breath on my lips. “To fall in love.”

I sat up, ripping the earplug from my ear. “What? What are you talking about, Bucky?” 

“Hey, hey, don't be scared.” Bucky sat up at well. He removed the plug from his ear and wrapped the cod around the iPod, setting it aside. 

“I'm not scared. Why would you want to fall in love?” I don't understand. The last time I checked, there's no signal when you're falling for someone. It just happens. It might happen while you're asleep, but I can't fathom how you could just realize it before going to bed. 

“I just want to live in the now, remember? They told us that the earth was flat and you'd tip off the edge when you reach the end. Turns out, you'll just go around.”

“I can't see your point in this.” I said, but in reality, I want him to say more. Because I like his voice and the way he say things to me. 

Bucky continued. “They also said that you can't travel through time, that you can't exist in here.” He held both my hands and kissed both knuckles. “It means you and I can't be together, in the same place, at the same time, on the same bed. It means I'm not supposed to feel your skin against mine. It means I shouldn't feel the weight of you on the bed, or smell your hair...”

“I-I..” I stuttered against his touch. 

“But I want to tell them that they were wrong all along, and that it is possible, along with all the other impossibles they told us about...” 

“The now, Bucky...the now...”

“Or that right now I could not fall in love with you.” 

Ah, fuck it. I'm already waist deep into the pit of misery upon meeting these two in person. If this will all hurt like a bitch in the end, I might as well take anything I can to gauze it up. 

But I was just so happy. Yes, I forgot. According to philosophy, you could realize  _anything_ before going to bed.

His hands found their way on my face, cradling each side. 

“Then fall, Bucky. I'll catch you.” 

He grinned. “We're so sappy.”

I licked my lips dry. “You started it.” 

When he leaned in for a kiss, I met him halfway. 

In a few years, I'll forget what this conversation has been all about, or if it will make sense when I recall our lines. What I'll remember, though, was the kiss and how I savagely forgot about our impending doom over a night of just doing what we wanted. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My lips are sealed as to what happened. Carry on, my wayward readers, and let your imaginations run wild.
> 
> Also, I'd like to say mission accomplished to myself because I made Rowan meet the Howling Commandos(Jim Morita all the way)


End file.
